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A PARABLE OF THE ROSE 
AND OTHER POEMS 



By LYMAN WHITNEY ALLEN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN. A Poem. 

Centennial (Third) Edition. 
This poem was awarded the prize offered by the New 
York Herald, in 1895. The Centennial Edition, the 
third, has been revised and enlarged. 

A PARABLE OP THE ROSE AND OTHER POEMS 



A Parable of the Rose 

And Other Poems 



By 
Lyman Whitney Allen 



G. P. Putnam's Sons 

New York and London 

Gbe fmfcftetbocftet press 

1908 






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Two Coi 

NOV 21 iSOd 

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Copyright, 1908 

BY 

LYMAN WHITNEY ALLEN 



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TO PHEBE 

I cannot find in shop or mart 

The things which thou dost value high; 

For things can never satisfy 
A mountain nature risen apart 

From valley creatures, coveting 
Life, vision, music, poesie, — 
The ripest fruits of Wisdom's tree, 

Imagination's eye and wing. 

Therefore I give thee of life's yield 

My treasures, garnered year by year, — 
Some bits of heavenly atmosphere, 

Some gleams the peaks of joy revealed, 

Some finer strains of faith whose lilt 

Is music strange, to thee not strange 
Since thou hast had ascension range 

Where skyey domes of seers are built. 

These are a spirit's soaring thrifts 

Got 'twixt the rhythms of Love and Fate, 

A poet's soul articulate, 
A poet's songs — his choicest gifts. 



CONTENTS 



A Parable of the Rose 
Canzonets . 

I. Lenses of Delight . 

II. O'er Rime's Confusion 

III. From Aery Leashes 

IV. My Skyey Shepherdess 
San Gabriel 

The Vision of a Mature Mind 
The Ass of Destiny 
The Birds of Love 
Madrigals . 

I. Till the Day Goes by 

II. Alas ! . 

III. A Dear Complexity 

IV. Prairie Queen 
V. If Love Abides 

VI. Love's Coming 



PAGE 
I 

13 
15 
17 
19 
21 
24 
28 
32 
38 
41 

43 
44 
46 
47 
49 
5i 



viii 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


VII. 


The Heart of Spring 


53 


VIII. 


Just She . 


56 


Shakespeare ...... 


58 


Beethoven's Seventh Symphony 


62 


Edmund 


Clarence Stedman . 


65 


China . 


. 


66 


Ars Artium ..... 


69 


Sonnets 





75 


Prelude: The Sonnet 


77 


I. 


The Tree and the Rose 


78 


II. 


Like Love in Heaven 


80 


III. 


Love's Immortality 


82 


IV. 


My Seraphim . 


84 


V. 


Saint Michael's . 


86 


VI. 


Day-Dreams . 


88 


VII. 


Tennyson .... 


90 


VIII. 


Princeton .... 


92 


Lyrics 





95 


I. 


The Same Old Love 


97 


II. 


A Soul's Return . 


99 


III. 


Atmosphere .... 


100 





CONTENTS 


IX 


IV. 


The Captain on the Bridge . 


PAGE 
. I0 3 


V. 


Retrospection 


. 10/ 


VI. 


Genesis .... 


IO9 


VII. 


The Silence of God 


III 


VIII. 


My Father .... 


• "3 


Wheat 


and Husks .... 


. 117 


I. 


Fruit of the Threshing . 


119 


II. 


The Need of the Husk . 


121 


III. 


The Rime of the Refuse 


123 


IV. 


Loss and Gain . 


125 


V. 


The Husk's Glory . 


127 


VI. 


The Starting of Sorrow 


129 


VII. 


God and the Wrong 


x 3* 


VIII. 


The Law of the Evil 


1 33 


IX. 


Fate and Pain . 


135 


X. 


A Song of the Mysticals 


137 


XI. 


Break of the Day . 


140 


XII. 


Through Death to Life . 


141 


XIII. 


The Touch of the Skies 


143 


XIV. 


The Creed of Love 


145 



A PARABLE OF THE ROSE. 

A POET dreamed a matin dream 
Most mystical, most true; 
His soul beheld a pageant gleam 

Against th' illumined blue. 
As real did the sight appear, 

With skyey landscape spell, 
As ever shone before trouvere, 

Lorris or Clopinel. 
And one who gazed with tranced heart 

Upon this holy Thing, 
Were recreant to Love and Art 

If he refused to sing. 



2 A PARABLE OF THE ROSE 

Creative visions come in days 

When noontide's splendor fades 
Beneath the firmamental rays 

Of Love's white overshades. 
These are celestial signs that show 
Love's sovereign ebb and flow; 
The imagery of Providence 
That heightens soul and sense, 
And sets Life's perfect paradigm 
Before the world in rime. 



There loomed the garden of a King, — 

A garden such as poet eye 
Had ne'er beholden, — opening 

Through crystal portals wide and high; 
A barred and battlemented close 
Of bloom, perfume, adagios 



A PARABLE OF THE ROSE 3 

Of fountains murmurous, melodies 

From woodland quires and meadow broods 
Of birds symphonious, fruiting trees 

And trees umbrageous, broidered roods 

Of rest, delight's similitudes, 
Processions hymnic, jocund forms, 

In train of Love's each new surprise, 
With dancing feet, and radiant swarms 

Of children playing circlewise 

In angelhood's disguise. 



The poet wandered to and fro, 
And gladness filled his heart. 

His nature ne'er before did know 
Such promptings unto art. 

Each scented waft of atmosphere 

Was inspiration strong and clear. 



4 A PARABLE OF THE ROSE 

Before the poet's loitering feet 

A rosebush stood, and on it shone 
One great white Rose full-blown. 

Its creamy petals, oversweet, 

Shed fragrance of such high degree, 
Such musky sorcery, 

That all the garden seemed to sense 

Its quickening redolence. 



About it spread a circle fair 

Of angels with long folded wings, 
Who guarded with ecstatic care 

This Rose of which the poet sings; 
And round it ranged a shining row 

Of saints, whose blessed eyes bespake 
Large wonder, chanting sweet and low 

Life's rapture for Love's sake. 



A PARABLE OF THE ROSE 

And one fair saint high Love bequeathed 

In days of earlier bliss 
Bent o'er it tenderly and breathed 

One long ascension kiss, 
And lifted her white hands and blessed, 

A prescience in her eyes, 
The Rose with such enamoured zest, — 

For this was Paradise, — 
That as he gazed the Rose and She 
Seemed mixed in sacred unity. 

I 



But none might touch the great white Rose 
That grew within the garden's close. 
This was the garden of the King, 

And this the King's beloved flower 
Full-blown for Him. Each lesser thing 

Of amaranthine mead or bower 



6 A PARABLE OF THE ROSE 

All might possess; but Kinghood's mind 
Delight above delights designed, 

And fashioned to art's last degree 
A royal Rose for Royalty. 



The poet gazed, and o'er his soul 

Wave after wave of rapture stole. 

His lips were dumb; his eyes were fixed 
Upon the flower; what glamour mixed 

With glory! In its deep rich heart 

A dewdrop lay. What rightful part 

Had he by sufferance in such bloom 
That filled the garden with perfume? 



The poet waited long beside 

The Rose, and grew more mystified. 



A PARABLE OF THE ROSE ; 

He breathed its odors,— but to dare 

To touch it!— nay, it was the King's; 

It was enough to have some share 
Of saints' and angels' sorcerings. 



At last he heard the rhythmic feet 

Of the approaching King; and bowed 
Beside the Rose, feeling its sweet 

Wild joyance round him like a cloud 
Of passionate incense flame and swing 
To greet the coming of the King. 

He bowed, but dared not lift his eyes; 

This was the Lord of Paradise. 



He sensed the patience of his soul 

Become high burgeoning, while all 



8 A PARABLE OF THE ROSE 

His mystic feelings seemed to roll 

From joy to joy seraphical 
Up Nature's every opened aisle 

With hope's delirious overflows 
That shook the flowers and stirred the file 

Of angels round the great white Rose. 

The King stood still, and from his eyes 

The love that fashioned Paradise 

Illumed Him, while His lips, bedewed 
With sweetness, breathed beatitude; 

And all the saints and seraphim 

Bowed low adoringly to Him. 

The King came to the great white Rose 
That grew within His garden's close; 
And bending o'er it with a kiss, 
While every petal shook with bliss 



A PARABLE OF THE ROSE g 

And the pale chalice glowed and flamed, 
The Lord of Paradise exclaimed: 
"O Rose, My Rose, I planted here 

And tended, thou hast bloomed at last ! 
So full, so white thou dost appear! 

Thou hast My early faith surpassed! 
Thou art the rose I hoped would be 
When in great love I cultured thee!" 

With this He stooping plucked the flower 
And pressed it to His lips. Again 

The fluttering birds in every bower 

Warbled, while all the children fain 

With saints and angels raised their eyes 

In holy rapture toward the skies. 

"O Rose, My Rose! thou shalt fulfil 
At last thy mission and My will. 



IO A PARABLE OF THE ROSE 

The King's white roses all are grown 
For the King's singers, — them alone.' 



And all the garden seemed to gleam 

With the new joy; the poet heard 
Sweet tides of holy music stream 

From distant hills; bird after bird 
Mixed dulcet strains in orchards near 
With children's laughter sweet and clear; 

And all the angels shook their wings 

In mystic ravishings. 

And one glad saint stood forth and bent 

A moment o'er the poet, sent 

One flash of love into his breast, 
One testimonial kiss impressed, 

Then slowly rose and stood beside 

The shining King beatified. 



A PARABLE OF THE ROSE II 

Then turned the King of Paradise 

Full on the poet, held the flower 
Above him quivering, while his eyes 

Shone with such grace, such regnant power, 
That every soul was caught and swayed 

By holy Love's divinest art. 
Then smiled the King, and stooping laid 

The Rose upon the poet's heart; 
And as he clasped the peerless thing 
The King exclaimed: "Now, Poet, sing!" 



CANZONETS. 



13 



I. 

LENSES OF DELIGHT. 

HPO pray, and know the heavens are open 
wide 

To send down every grace; 
To live, and feel a woman's heart beside 

To gladden every place; 
To dream with her, and watch the tender blue 
For every wonder new; 

This is to rise and breathe the purer air 

Off lofty mountain crest; 
Behold the further stretch of shining stair 

On which high spirits rest; 

And e'er where vanished ministrants have trod, 

Perceive the form of God. 
15 



l6 LENSES OF DELIGHT 

Sky visions seen through lenses of delight 

Set in a woman's eyes; 
And music, heard through passionate lips be- 
dight 

With Love's vermilion dyes, — 
These are the feeders to a poet's lays 
Which after ages praise. 



II. 

O'ER RIME'S CONFUSION. 

HPHOU earnest, oh so sorcerously sweet! 

One matin hour of eld, 
My winged Hope! and, at thy shrinal feet, 

Since then mine art has held 
Each song-wrought censer of my soul's desire, 
For Love's empyreal fire. 

Flaming o'er rime's confusion thou didst come 

Upon my tranced heart: 
Thy miracle struck every prophet dumb, 

And my tumultuous art 

Awoke to see, from gleam to gleam along, 

Love's Bethel steps of song, 
a 17 



18 o'er rime's confusion 

Thou art Love's angel with forbidding sword 

Guarding Arcadian state; 
The poet's moods, the poet's music stored 

Within Love's templed gate, 
Which thou alone mak'st radiant passage through 
Down from th' unstained blue. 



III. 



FROM AERY LEASHES. 

TV /I Y winged Faith thou art, and thou art 
here, 
From aery leashes slipped, — 
My constant vision, my enduring seer, 

My life's apocalypt; 
My priestess at the altar of romance, 
My spirit's puissance. 

Nor lips nor lute can tell the ecstasy 

Thine orisons bestow; 
Responsive founts of psychic power set free 

In music's mystic flow. 

Thy love is my cathedral sheltering, 

'Neath which I dream and sing. 
19 



20 FROM AERY LEASHES 

Regeneration's bread! I eat and free 
My soul from earth's domain; 

Imagination's wine! I drink and see 
The sky's superior grain; 

And life, from glory unto glory spent, 

Is one long sacrament. 



IV. 

MY SKYEY SHEPHERDESS. 

HP HE RE is a shining garden far away 

Walled from the common sight; 
An orchard of green palms, a wide array 

Of roses red and white, 
And tender violets whose azure eyes 
Bespeak Love's paradise. 

Here is Love's music, such as never feels 

The insufficient lyre; 
Here is Love's perfect rapture at the heels 

Of perfected desire; 
And here the poet wanders with his Muse 
Down fancy's avenues. 



22 MY SKYEY SHEPHERDESS 

With eyes to see, with ears to hear, with heart 

To sense the universe 
As must the seraphim, thou giv'st mine art 

The things thy thoughts rehearse; 
The finer things of darkness and of light, 
And Love's interior sight. 



For Love alone that is the world's eclipse 

The heights of song I scale; 
Thine eyes the sorcery of the peaks, thy lips 

The witchery of the vale. 
And my enchanted thoughts do reverence 
To thy diviner sense. 



Thou art Love's warden on the stormy steep 
Where poet frenzy leads; 



MY SKYEY SHEPHERDESS 23 

Or where 'mid sunny meadows verdured deep 

His browsing fancy feeds; 
Thou art the surety of my song's success, 
My skyey Shepherdess! 



SAN GABRIEL. 

CAN Gabriel! 
I stand and wonder at thy walls 
So old, so quaint; a glory falls 
Upon them as I view the past, 
And read the story which thou hast 

Preserved so well. 



San Gabriel! 

I gaze and marvel at thy towers, 

Thy belfry strange through which the hours 

Fleet-footed crowd two hundred years, 

Whose echoing music yet appears 

In each sweet bell. 
24 



SAN GABRIEL 2$ 

San Gabriel! 
What souls were they who fashioned thee 
To be a blessed charity! 
What faith was theirs who bore the cross, 
And counted wealth and ease but loss 

Of Christ to tell! 



San Gabriel! 
Before thy gates what heavy tolls 
Have fallen from sin-burdened souls! 
Within thy walls what new desires 
Of love have quenched fierce hatred's fires, 

From nave and cell! 



San Gabriel! 
What guidance hast thou flashed along 
The ways of savagery and wrong, 



26 SAN GABRIEL 

And shamed th' unholy and unkind, 
The theftuous hand, the murderous mind, 
Ere ravage fell! 



San Gabriel! 
A glamour of the ancient time 
Remains with thee! Thou hast the rime 
Of some old poem, and the scent 
Of some old rose's ravishment 

Naught can dispel! 



San Gabriel! 
From Mexico to Monterey 
Thy sisters greet thee 'midst decay; 
But thou dost stand a living thing, 
And round thee living passions cling 

And voices swell! 



SAN GABRIEL 27 

San Gabriel! 
Within thee all my doubtings cease; 
I find the holy Prince of Peace; 
And feel the thrill of brotherhood 
Betwixt my soul and those who stood 
For this same faith, for this same world, 
And Christ's one flag of love unfurled! 

San Gabriel! San Gabriel! 

I own thy sweet and mystic spell. 



THE VISION OF A MATURE MIND. 

T CARE not for the Spring as once I did. 

I miss the gladness of those earlier years 
When, in the orchard where the robins hid 

Their nests 'mid bloomy coverts, eyes and 
ears 
Caught mime and rime of mystic rhapsodies, 
As Life and Joy disported 'neath the apple trees. 

I thrilled to sense the pulsing of the grass 

And breathe the subtle odors of the ground, 
As Nature's resurrection morns did pass 

Into ascension days of light and sound; 
I dreamed of love and power, youth's alchemies, 
Achievement quickly wrought and swift-sur- 
rendering ease. 
28 



THE VISION OF A MATURE MIND 29 

I gazed entranced upon th' expansive sky, 
And watched the garish clouds, white- 
bannered ships, 
Sail over heaven's blue main. I felt God's 
eye 
Impiercing Beauty's wide apocalypse. 
I built me vast cathedral fantasies, 
And joined the universal anthem of degrees. 

But now I dwell amidst the city's strain, 
See flaunted Wealth and Fashion's 

masquerade, 
Hear Toil's deep undertones of hate and 

pain, 
Witness Life fighting Fate with broken 

blade. 
My soul is limned with ominous images 
Of want, despair, and shame, — and death, — 

Sin's sure decrees. 



30 THE VISION OF A MATURE MIND 

I hear above bird-songs curses of men, 

Heart-sobs of women, little children's wails. 
Beneath the apple blooms there looms the ken 
Of Woe's processions o'er Oppression's 
trails ; 
My soul cannot escape earth's tyrannies; 
The sorcerous season palls, the wonted pleasure 
flees. 



Gone is the olden gladness of the Spring; 

I feel an alien 'mid its happy throngs; 
While man wounds man, while hearts have 
sufferings, 
Mine is the sphere of life's unrighted 
wrongs. 
I turn back to the world's activities 
To haste Love's golden age as God's high Will 
shall please. 



THE VISION OF A MATURE MIND 3 1 

The dreams of lifting up Redemption's Cross, 
Holding Faith's torch above the paths of 
gloom, 
Starting a song of Hope through cells of loss, 
Planting Love's roses 'gainst the walls of 
doom, — 
These are the Springtime's sweetest reveries; 
These are Heaven's holy joys beneath earth's 
fruiting trees. 



THE ASS OF DESTINY. 

[ SING of a simple creature, 

The ass of destiny. 
My vision takes strangeful feature 

As eyes of the spirit see 
Past veils of the dark and the dust; 
And art bends low to the must. 



I sing of an animal sign; 

I wot not of what I sing, 
Beholding the glory shine 

From Heaven round earthly thing. 

My soul is filled with an awe 

Of fate that is upper law. 
32 



THE ASS OF DESTINY 33 

The Master of sacrifice 

Rode triumphing on an ass; 

Love furnished the earnest price 
For ownership of the pass 

Up hell-fought steeps to the plains 

Where losses emerge in gains. 

Behind the Acceptable Year 

What cycles of years there are! 

And writ is the history clear 
On mystery's calendar 

Of this strange ass and the King 

Who rode to His suffering. 

It came as all others came, — 

This creature elect. Who knew 
The hovering wings of flame, 
The rhythmical retinue 



34 THE ASS OF DESTINY 

That kept the centuried way- 
Unhindered for its birthday? 



'T was born; but who recognized 

The steed of the Prince of Peace? 

It grew; but what man surmised 

Its worth to the world's increase? 

No singular signs it wore. 

'T was only an ass, — no more. 



At last came the fulness of time; 

All time to its fulness comes; 
This scourges the poet's rime 

To songs of millenniums. 
Who knows where such strain belongs 
May fashion the ages' songs. 



THE ASS OF DESTINY 35 

A purpose; a fact to be; 

Betwixt them long ignorance 
That counts that the race is free 

And time and the world are chance, 
And all that happens fulfils 
The folly of fugitive wills. 

So be it for thee, thou blind 

To song, and thou deaf to light! 

In loftier realms of the mind 

Eyes hearken and ears have sight; 

For music and flame are one 

Where wings of seraphim run. 

The prophets are not extinct; 

Innumerous as the stars 
They live unbeholden, linked 

With God past visible bars; 



36 THE ASS OF DESTINY 

They speak; Love hears and affirms 
Fulfilment in mystic terms. 



Time understands; and the air 

Has knowledge; and force beholds; 

The angels guard; and the care 
Of sainthood's heart unfolds. 

What was, is, and is to be 

Is scion of Destiny. 



A little enlarged to much 
In prophecy's aftermath; 

Who kens when the King may touch 
The trivial in thy path, 

And prove it predestinate, 

The hinge of the ages' fate? 



THE ASS OF DESTINY 37 

Walk softly, soul, and watch! 

Thou knowest not at what turn 
The commonest thing may catch 

The glory of Heaven, and burn 
Before thee, and show the edge 
Of infinite privilege. 



THE BIRDS OF LOVE. 

TJIGH Love lets loose his singing birds 

In every heart that yields to him. 
These are the poet's runic words 
For what the Muses limn. 

O Love! I yield my heart to thee; 

To thee most leal my heart belongs; 
Come, birds of skyey royalty, 

And sing your happy songs! 

My orchard trees are all in bloom, 

And waiting for your quiring moods: 

Come, mingle with the Spring's perfume 

Your fluting interludes! 
38 



THE BIRDS OF LOVE 39 

O birds of Love, the wild, the tame! 

I crave each aery fugitive. 
Who holds to Love may boldly claim 

All boons which Love can give. 

O birds of Love, how blithe you are! 

Bright waftures from his tropic breast. 
Love changes Nature's calendar 

And turns the east wind west. 

O birds of Love, what cheer you make! 

There is no discord in your notes; 
'T is Love alone has power to wake 

Song-bursts from silent throats. 

O birds of Love, your carollings 

With joyance fill each fragrant spray! 

Love's is the only voice that sings 
The perfect roundelay. 



40 THE BIRDS OF LOVE 

O birds of Love 'twixt earth and sky! 

Build firm your nests, bring forth your 
young. 
Ascension things fast multiply 

Wherever Love has sprung. 

O birds of Love, you vanish not 

With warnings of the Winter's strain! 

Love keeps the heart a Summer spot 
And all his birds remain. 

High Love's ethereal comradery! 

Fulfilment of the poet's words! 
The heart can never lonely be 

With Love's sweet singing birds. 



MADRIGALS. 



41 



I. 

TILL THE DAY GOES BY. 

A FACE to a sky of blue, 
A heart to a song; 
With wild birds singing through 

The whole day long; 
And roses crimson and white 

Across my face 
Blown hard in the wind's delight 

With perfume and grace; 
I lie and dream to the sky, 

And sing to my heart, 
And dream and sing till the day goes by 

And the birds depart. 

43 



II. 

ALAS! 

IV A Y heart is sad with waiting, Love, 

Waiting for thee. 
My eyes are dim with watching, Love, 

Watching for thee. 
The sunlight fades, the night draws nigh, 
The stars come forth in the clear sky, 
I sit alone, alone and sigh, — 

Sighing for thee. 

My heart is faint with longing, Love, 

Longing for thee. 
My eyes are worn with weeping, Love, 

Weeping for thee. 

44 



ALAS ! 45 

The night-winds murmur as they pass, 
Trailing thy name through the long grass, 
My soul cries out, alas! alas! 
Alas for me! 



III. 

A DEAR COMPLEXITY. 

JWIY Sweetheart, Sweetheart mine! 

I love but thee, but thee, 

Thou dear complexity, 
Half human, half divine! 
Thy graces ever shine 

Each day on me, on me; 

Without thy face to see, 
Each day my heart would pine, 

And joy would slowly surely be 

Only a haunting memory. 



46 



IV. 

PRAIRIE QUEEN. 

A /lY heart is a great prairie 

Close-bounded about by sky, — 
Blue sky of God, with a rim 
Of yellow and red, and aery; — 

Sweet wealth of the thoughts that lie 
Past graces where trace is dim. 

Down deep in the sacred centre, 
Bloom-wise to the rising sun, 
Art thou, my Prairie Queen! 

Whose waftures of fragrance enter 

My spirit, and make it one 

With Love and the world unseen. 
47 



48 PRAIRIE QUEEN 

My God and my Queen are sufficient, 
On prairie or mountain range; 

I ask nothing more nor less, — 
His compassing power omniscient, 
Her love that can never change, 
Their fusion of tenderness. 



IF LOVE ABIDES. 

A17HAT grief can break the heart 
If Love abides? 
Whate'er betides 
Sweet Love can heal the smart. 



He with divinest art 

Swift help provides; 

What grief can break the heart 

If Love abides? 
49 



50 IF LOVE ABIDES 

His words new courage start; 

Despair subsides; 

And sorrow hides 
In unknown ways apart ; 
What grief can break the heart 

If Love abides? 



VI. 

LOVE'S COMING. 

IN Springtide days of splendor, 

When speech was blithe and tender, 
And all the world of hearts was young 
and strong, 

Love came with wooing graces, 

Slipped out from shining spaces, 

With lifted lute and lips for perfect song. 

On floating wings he lingered 

In aureoles, and fingered 

The shimmering strings and sang a song 

to me. 

5i 



52 LOVE S COMING 

He sang so sweet, a feeling 
Of sunlit pinions stealing 

Around me bound my soul in ecstasy. 

With one long note of rapture 
He turned, as if to capture 

Some wildering fragrance blown across his 
way; 
Then suddenly ascending 
He vanished, like the spending 

Of light behind a cloud of fading day. 

Through weary years of yearning 
I wait for Love's returning 

And never comes he back nor heeds my cry ; 
But all my heart is ringing 
With echoes of his singing: 

Oh, come, sweet Love, again before I die! 



VII. 
THE HEART OF SPRING. 

T ROSE from my sleep 
When thou didst call; 

I broke from the keep 
Of Winter's thrall; 

The frost-time scorning 

I hailed the morning 

To dwell with thee and Life. 



I gazed on the skies 

When thou didst smile; 
I felt in thine eyes 

The sun's warm guile; 

53 



54 THE HEART OF SPRING 

My dark robes leaving 
I donned light's weaving 

To dwell with thee and Joy. 



I harked to the birds 

When thou didst sing; 

I heard in thy words 

The heart of Spring; 

The treetops' quiring 

I left, desiring 

To dwell with thee and Song. 



I scented the South 

When thou didst kiss; 
I drained at thy mouth 

The cup of bliss; 



THE HEART OF SPRING 55 

From earthly storing 
I turned adoring 

To dwell with thee and Love. 



With thee I dwell, 

My goddess sweet! 
I feel the spell 

Around thy feet; 
'T is earth ascending, 
'T is Spring unending 

To dwell with thee and Faith. 



VIII. 

JUST SHE. 

T TOW beautiful are the days of Spring! 

But what if there be no heart to sing? 
Who cares for the bluebird's note 

If one sweet voice is still, 
And silent the only throat 

That set the earth athrill? 
'T was Love that made the Spring for me, — 
My Love, just She, just She. 

How beautiful are the days of Spring! 

But what if there be no heart to sing? 
56 



JUST SHE 57 

Who cares for the May's perfume 

If one sweet flower is dead, 
And vanished the only bloom 

That life with joy o'erspread? 
'T was Love that unmade the Spring for me, — 
My Love, just She, just She. 

How beautiful are the days of Spring! 
And what if there be a heart to sing? 
There 's rapture that conquers grief, 

When one sweet soul exists 
Past death, and assures belief 
In Heaven's evangelists. 
'T is Love that remakes the Spring for me, — 
My Love, just God and She. 



SHAKESPEARE. 

T MMORTAL Shakespeare, — he who loved Great 

Love 

And built him thrones where'er his genius made 

Dead ages live! Within the heart of Rome, 

Above the Caesars, set he One whose grace 

Turned catacombal darkness into light 

To daze the world; and in the pagan North, 

And past the confines of the sunset sea, 

Wrought spiritual kingdoms, bulging forth 

The ancient walls of custom into wreck 

With the new throne-rooms of the Nazarene. 
58 



SHAKESPEARE 59 

Death has one pang, — the leaving of my books; 
But am I loth to leave the written word 
To find the speaking master? Such great souls 
As claim, unclaiming, worthy reverence 
From those who find their own exceeding worth 
In the re-birth of spirit at the touch 
Of genius, the sky-flash of earthly souls, 
Are as the sea that flings the surf ashore 
In long thin edges of encurling foam, 
But has its deeps unfathomable, breadths 
For mighty ships, and mounts and gulfs of wave, 
Close-kindred to the moon and all the stars. 



The surge of Shakespeare's soul along the edge 

Of our great Anglo-Saxon continent, 

By night, by day, through changing seasons' 

tides, 
We hear; we hearken, laughing, praising Heaven 



60 SHAKESPEARE 

For seashore such as ours, and our great sea. 
But out afar, 'mid mists that have not lifted, 
Lie the vast breadth and depth of Shake- 
speare's soul, 
Of which King Lear and Hamlet and Macbeth 
Are but the earthward foam. To leave this 

shore 
Is to sail outward on yon open sea, 
And sailing hear the rhythm of yeasty deeps 
Fierce-tossed with mighty billows, feel the force 
Of under-fathoms and the straining moon, 
And see round prow and stern in silver wake 
To starboard, larboard, gulfward, crestward rise 
Afar and near, round, round on every wave, 
Innumerous Ariels and Prosperos, 
And all the gloam and lustre of all lands, 
All camps and courts, all huts and palaces, 
And all that build their worlds for all delight, 
Forever greatening with eternity; 



SHAKESPEARE 6 1 

And ours the ship, and ours the captain strong, 
And ours the vision, — vision of high things. 



Farewell, ye hither powers, the while there works 
The unadulterate air my soul has breathed 
From o'er yon thither far Shakespearian main! 
Not merman, mermaid, Neptune's hoary form 
With mythic trident of the aery wave, 
Are luminous and rhythmic as yon shapes 
I see arising, plunging, dashed with foam 
Effulgent with the light of farther suns. 

Farewell, ye hither powers! sweet books adieu! 
Ye sands and foam and narrow shore farewell! 
We will sail outward to the open sea. 



BEETHOVEN'S SEVENTH SYMPHONY. 

An Impression. 

poco sostenuto. vivace. 

T^HE dead Christ starts; the dual pall of night 

Falls wrested from the Galilean's face; 

Death flees before imperious hosts that 

chase, 

With swords of splendor and white spears of 

light, 

Wan wraiths of agonies and lingering sight 

Of scarred Golgotha in divine disgrace. 

The red dawn quivers, and the burthened 

space 

Strains with the passion of immortal might. 
62 



BEETHOVEN'S SEVENTH SYMPHONY 63 
ALLEGRETTO. 

The dead Christ arises; the grave is defeated; 
the stone 
Is rolled away by the angels; from far 
empyrean 
Tumultuous ravishment, mystical 
flutterings, 
White whirlwinds of cherubim wondrous and 
worldward flown. 
On one skyward billow of song the trium- 
phant Judean 
Moves into the glory and gladness and 
wafture of wings. 

PRESTO. PRESTO MENO ASSAI. 

Waking Easter lilies lift' their eyes 

To the weeping gaze of Magdalene. 



64 BEETHOVEN'S SEVENTH SYMPHONY 

Pageants pass bewildering between 
Dawn and morn, and all things seem to rise. 
Mystery casts off its dim disguise; 

Power leaps from the luminous Nazarene; 

Life has won ; the leaves of hope are green ; 
Love's rose blossoms; earth is Paradise. 

finale: allegro con brio. 

Heaven is emptied of angels ; the jubilant legions, 
Mists of sweet minstrelsy, orient shadows 
of care, 
Whirling and swirling encircle with 
paean and laughter. 
Strong with the infinite strength to the infinite 
regions 
Rises the Crucified, swift on the tides of 
the air, 
Drawing the worshipping ages in ec- 
stasy after. 



EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN. 

NEVER saw him face to face, — 
This poet with his generous grace. 
Yet oft have I beheld his soul 
In singing robes, while through me stole 
A subtle joyance that renewed 
My faltering faith's ascension mood, 
Whose sweet persistence made it part 
Of inspiration's life and art. 
A mystic voice within me saith: 
"He lives and sings; who cries out 'death'? 



65 



CHINA. 



IMPERIAL China, immemorial born, 
Beyond the offing of the Orient seas! 

Thy natal star flamed in the misty morn 
Of far-off centuries. 



We of a later day and younger age 

Touch hands on thine, and feel the fee- 
bling beat, 

The languor of thy lessening heritage, 
Life's flow from founts effete. 

Our ears are toward thy pleading unto us, 

The lisping of thy hoarse and hoary lips; 
66 



CHINA 67 

Thy semblant music trembles ominous 
From faltering finger-tips. 



In vain thy veteran search ; now would we guide 
Thy feet aback to Paradisean streams, 

Whence softly flows the blest ancestral tide 
Of thy Confucian dreams. 

Beside those fountains pure thou shalt not rest 
And dull thy passion unto poppied mood; 

But drinking deep, of primal power possessed 
And childhood's sanctitude, 

Thou shalt press onward toward the farther 
goal, 

Maturer being, mellower strains repeat, 
Matutine music of the larger soul, 

Redemption's chorus sweet. 



68 CHINA 

Thou shalt attain the land which grace endues; 

Its white noon dimless, its camellian airs 
Hymnic with hope, and all its avenues 

Love's golden thoroughfares. 

Forward, O China! for the Christ appears 

Upon the shadows of thy centuried loss; 

And thou shalt find, through all the widening 
years, 
Thine Eden at His Cross. 



ARS ARTIUM. 
I. 



A N architect builded a palace of stone 
*^ Of exquisite form and hue, 
With bronze colossi and pillared zone 
Of porphyry purpled through. 



The master boasted and proudly swore 

That unto the end of time 

His house should endure, and forevermore 

Resound with his praise sublime. 
69 



70 ARS ARTIUM 

Passed swiftly by a year and a day; 

An earthquake shattered the place; 
The palace of splendor tottered and lay 

A ruin in earth's embrace. 



II. 



A sculptor, centuries long ago, 

Carved out of the marble white 

An Aphrodite, with face to show 
The glory of Love's delight. 



The people wondering worshipped, bound 

By spells of the goddess fair, 
Foam-swathed, wind-wafted, with roses crowned 

Queen-Beauty of earth and air. 



ARS ARTIUM ?I 

The sculptor and people ceased to be; 

And afterward ravening came 
A vandal horde from the northern sea, 

And cast her to wreck and flame. 



III. 



A painter captured a rainbow and wrought, 

With pigments of Paradise, 
The Virgin Mother of Christ, and caught 

The wonder-light in her eyes. 



The picture hung in the altar glow; 

And through the cathedral air, 
From vaulted roof unto tiles below, 

It hallowed the place of prayer. 



72 ARS ARTIUM 

But time was ruthless; the colors waned; 

Half- veiled seemed the face devout; 
The shining features grew dark and stained 

And the vision faded out. 



IV. 



A great musician, his genius fired 
To passion's supreme degree, 

By heavenly orchestras inspired, 
Created a symphony. 



It swept from a hundred instruments 

A whirlwind of consonance; 
The throngs, bewildered with art's ascents, 

Were held in ineffable trance. 



ARS ARTIUM 73 

The morning came with impetuous mood 
O'er-breaking the night's demur; 

But the music was not for the multitude 
Without an interpreter. 



A poet fashioned a song and gave, 
Like Noah's ultimate dove, 

The soul of his soul to wind and wave; 
And swiftly the bird of love 



Found rest and covert for welcome wings, 
And nested in gladdened hearts; 

And nourished her brood of quiring things, 
Song's numberless counterparts. 



74 ARS ARTIUM 

The poet vanished; but sweet and strong, 

In ravishing roundelays, 
The poet's soul and the poet's song 

Live on in the world always. 



SONNETS. 



75 



THE SONNET. 



THE poet's burnished glass of thought 
Held up to Nature's daily lure, 
Whereon each pageant mood is caught 
In radiant miniature. 



Life's near inclusive form of things ; 

Love's narrowing circumference, 
Wherein Grief's gathered glory springs 

And Joy's delights condense. 



The ancient song of poet tongue; 
The modern lilt of poet lips ; 
Th' elect of Art, forever young, 

Unknowing time's eclipse 

77 



A 



I. 

THE TREE AND THE ROSE. 

GREAT green tree grew 'neath the south- 
ern skies 

O'erspread with great white roses; every- 
where 
Upon it, like a thatch, with gleam and 
glare, 
The flowers lay thick and fragrant. In surprise 
I gazed, and marked a bush beside it rise 

The twain entwining, each the other's care, 
Tree strength, rose blossom, an expanding 
pair- 
Together one rose-tree to poet eyes. 

78 



THE TREE AND THE ROSE 79 

Thus is it, my Beloved, my White Rose! 

God set thee at my side, and thou dost 
climb, 
Mixing with mine thy soul's ascension 
power. 
Each through the other to completeness grows ; 
And my life's glory is my Rose of rime, 
And my life's gladness is my heart in 
flower. 



II. 



LIKE LOVE IN HEAVEN. 

J3ELOVED, I would have thee love me true 
As lovers do in Heaven, whose opened 
eyes 
Behold, without the flesh that falsifies, 
The ageless soul in beauty fresh and new. 
Beloved, I would have thy spirit view 

Th' enlarging life which deep within me 

lies, 
And know that what will make thy 
Paradise 

Hereafter now is thine for thee to woo. 

80 



LIKE LOVE IN HEAVEN 8 1 

My life is thine to take and take again; 
My heart is for an Eden unto thee; 

And love shall never lose its golden 
prime. 
Oh! love me now as thou wilt love me then, 
Seeing me somewhat as the angels see, 
Knowing me unimpaired by loss and 
time. 



III. 

LOVE'S IMMORTALITY. 

T3EL0VED, shall we change as we grow old? 
Shall this great love of ours that every- 
where, 
In look, in word, in daily tender care, 
Burns like high-leaping flame grow ever cold? 
If we but knew years hence we should behold 
This same sweet glory, that our lives would 

wear 
These same bright crowns of joy, our hearts 
could bear 

Each cross, each loss, by deathless love consoled. 

82 



love's immortality 83 

Sweetheart, I fear not, knowing love's true sign, 
Knowing love's changeless law and ageless 
life; 
And since thou art God's perfect gift 
to me, 
And God is love, our love is love divine 
Which cannot alter, but is ever rife 

With deepening proofs of immortality. 



IV. 

MY SERAPHIM. 

/VyiY books, dear comrades, each a constant 
guest 
Beside my humble hearth; a waiting quire, 
Minstrels of thought to sing as I desire; 
The master-host of time all dispossessed 
Of earthliness, in garb immortal dressed; 
My sacred seraphim that fan the fire 
Of smouldering power, till 'neath their 
grace aspire 

White flames of poesie on skyward quest. 

84 



MY SERAPHIM 85 

Chant on, life-bearers, from your thrones of 
peace ! 
And I will strike my lyre; perchance my 
soul, 
Set to the measures of perpetual 
prayer, 
May add one note to your rich harmonies, 
And, through the service of your bounteous 
dole, 
The fadeless robes of inspiration wear. 



V. 

SAINT MICHAEL'S. 

,r "T WAS midnight, and I stood outside the door 
Of the great hospital's benignant close; 
The fevered city lay in deep repose; 
I rang; a sister answered; with heart sore 
I faced a bed where flesh and spirit tore 

At shame's red robes 'mid death's con- 
vulsing throes: 
I flashed hope's skyward lights; upbraid- 
ings rose 
Infuriate with lust's demonial lore. 

86 



SAINT MICHAEL'S 87 

At last I stood without; the morning's beams 
Shone on the portal; but a horror stole 
Across my brain working revulsion's 
spell. 
Behind each door what is? and what man 
dreams ? 
I loathed the forced achievement of my 
soul — 
Culture in holiness through sight of 
hell. 



VI. 

DAY-DREAMS. 

T^HE best I know is what I may not know, 
My day-dreams, psychic auras that sur- 
round 
My spirit's inmost working, being ground 
And sky for all the trees of life that grow 
Bearing ideals. Thus does God bestow 

My mystical becomings 'neath all sound, 
All sheen of earth, where soul and sense 
unbound 

Are penetrant with Heaven's creative flow. 
88 



DAY-DREAMS 89 

I know the best is what has never been; 

And next, the knowing, — faith's foresight 
of things, — 
Cities of God for them who dare to 
trust. 
So silent grow I, sing I, feeling kin 
To oracles, apocalyptic kings, 

And every soul that climbs o'er death 
and dust. 



VII. 



TENNYSON. 

T^HE Laureate Alfred, chief of Arthur's 

knights, 

A greater than the mighty Lancelot, 

Clomb up the thousand steps, and, faltering 

not, 

Clove through the portal of the fiery lights. 

He gazed unswooning on the awful sights 

Across the swath of mystic flame, and got 

Eyes to the naked chalice, waxing hot 

With poet passion on immortal heights. 
90 



TENNYSON 91 

His soul, white-heaten in the Muses' fire, 

Seven-times refined passed on and did 
prevail ; 

And now, in samite of his pure desire, 
On open vision glows the Holy Grail. 

Victorious knight amid great angels strong! 

We will ascend thy thousand steps of song. 



VIII. 

PRINCETON. 

|3 EPOSEFUL spot horizoned by the stress 

Of thunderous cities! Here stern Nature 

seems 

One verdurous peace, an atmosphere of 

dreams, 

With ever-lilting languorous caress. 

Yet everywhere a laborous mightiness, 

A fine vibration, youthly anvilled, streams, — 

Felt music, muted clangor, wisdom's themes 

Turning to vantage for the world's redress. 
92 



PRINCETON 93 

This is the armory of intellect 

Where swords of thought are wrought for 
lords of strife, 
The while th' enfreedomed spirit beats 
down brawn 
On the last lines of darkness, stands erect, 
Grasping the vision of dominion life, 

And cries, "The Day!" across the 
reddening dawn. 



LYRICS. 



95 



I. 



THE SAME OLD LOVE. 

T OVE is ever young. 

Albeit Life feels time's growing age, 
Albeit Life sees earth's slowing wage, 
Love has the same melodious golden tongue. 



Love is ever strong. 

Albeit Life feels time's hea vying cross, 

Albeit Life sees earth's levying dross, 

To Love the same imperial hands belong. 
7 97 



98 THE SAME OLD LOVE 

Love is ever glad. 

Albeit Life feels time's galling chains, 
Albeit Life sees earth's falling fanes, 

Love's heart keeps fresh the early joy it had. 



Love is ever true. 

Albeit Life feels time's ailing lyre, 
Albeit Life sees earth's failing fire, 

Love is the same old Love forever new. 



II. 

A SOUL'S RETURN. 



i 



HEARD a strange but familiar song 
Above the noise of the hurrying throng. 



It drifted out of a window set 
With heliotrope and mignonette. 

It seemed the voice of Love's oracle, 
A heavenly music that earthward fell. 

It was my own wrought melody; 
It was my soul come back to me. 



99 



III. 

ATMOSPHERE. 

T WONDER so! 

Such holy sweetness wraps my soul, 
An atmosphere that takes control 
Of all my nature, claiming all 
In swift abandon to the thrall 

Of Love's deep ebb and flow. 

Hold, doubting heart! 
This is a soul become a breath 
For my soul's breathing. My soul saith: 



ATMOSPHERE ioi 

"I drink thee, sink thee into me, 
Thou kindred spirit mystery, 

And mixed with me thou art!" 



Stop, questioning sense! 
I yield myself entranced and still, 
And let this subtle aura fill 
My being's rapt interior frame, 
Whose quivering ecstasies proclaim 

Love's secret evidence. 



O wonder, cease! 
Nor space, nor clay is barrier 
To this caressing breath of her, 
That wooes my heart from hour to hour, 
Imbues with Love's ethereal power 

And Love's imperial peace. 



102 ATMOSPHERE 

Sweet spirit lore! 
This is the truest, realest 
Of thought, of love, the essence blest 
That blends in full communion 
Two mated beings into one, — 
One soul forevermore 



IV. 

THE CAPTAIN ON THE BRIDGE. 

'"THE night is nigh, 

The sea is high, 
The dashing waves o'erwhelm; 

But all serene, 

With vigil keen, 
The captain 's at the helm. 

Across the sea 

He pilots me 
Through gulf and foaming ridge; 

I know no fear, 

For he is near, — 

My captain on the bridge. 
103 



104 THE CAPTAIN ON THE BRIDGE 

In mist and storm, 

His beaten form 
Moves all the long night through 

He knows the path 

The great ship hath, 
And steers her straight and true. 

Across the sea 

He pilots me 
Through gulf and foaming ridge; 

I know no fear, 

For he is near, — 
My captain on the bridge. 



I have no chart 

Nor seaman's art 

For ocean's thoroughfare; 



THE CAPTAIN ON THE BRIDGE 105 

But undistressed 

I calmly rest, 
And trust my captain there. 

Across the sea 

He pilots me 
Through gulf and foaming ridge; 

I know no fear, 

For he is near, — 
My captain on the bridge. 



O soul astrain 

On life's rough main! 
Thy Captain's in command; 

And, tempests past, 

In port at last 
Thy bark will safely land. 



106 THE CAPTAIN ON THE BRIDGE 

Across the sea 

He pilots thee 
Through gulf and foaming ridge; 

Have thou no fear, 

For He is near, — 
Thy Captain on the bridge. 



RETROSPECTION. 



'THE years are grim because of me, 

Before and after, Judgment saith; 
I go the way of misery 

And tread the purple grapes of death. 



Offence is all forgiven, but still 

The crimson scars in heart and flesh 

Are mockers of the later will 

And start the olden pangs afresh. 
107 



108 RETROSPECTION 

It is not love I failed to win; 

It is not unrewarded strife; 
It is the man I might have been 

That makes the tragedy of life, 



VI. 

GENESIS. 

T^HE outlet of eternity 

Into the sweep of time; 
Gateway through which life's great to-be 

Has issuance sublime; 
Love's tidal mystery set free 

In history and rime. 

First measure of the music far 

The centuries prolong; 
The melody of morning star; 

The moon's empyreal song; 
Creation's fugue oracular; 

World-preludes sweet and strong. 
109 



I IO GENESIS 

Primeval glow of Providence 

Upon the quickening spheres; 

Foregleams of grace auroral whence 
Shall glide the widening years; 

Sunrise of life's immortal sense 
Across earth's misty meres. 

Beginning of the winding way 

The feet of Love have trod, — 

Love's bruised feet, by night, by day, 
With priestly sandals shod; 

Breaking the path for men astray 
That they may mount to God. 



VII. 
THE SILENCE OF GOD. 

I SAT at the feet of the King, 

With face toward His face divine; 

"My Father! answer my questioning! 

Speak Thou of the things to be mine, 

The kingdom to which I am heir, 

The wealth and power I shall share!" 



But God was still; 

I bowed my will; 

in 



H2 THE SILENCE OF GOD 

And through me there softly stole 

A sweetness the heavens forspend; 

And somehow I knew I shall know when my soul 
Is able to comprehend. 



The silence of God is His loudest word. 
O Love! I have heard, I have heard. 



VIII. 

MY FATHER. 

(~\ GOD of rest! 
Thy watchful care has safely kept 
My soul from evil while I slept; 
Thy guardian love has been my shade; 
Thy healing touch has strength conveyed; 
In mystic sleep destroyed Thou hast 
The disenchantments of the past; 
In life renewed, in frame reborn, 
I wake and praise Thee with the morn, 
O God of rest, 
My Father! 

8 "3 



ii4 



MY FATHER 



O God of dreams! 
By night Thou hast revealed to me 
Chambers of precious imagery; 
The fresher air, the farther lights, 
My native world upon the heights, 
Dear faces of the earlier time, 
Loved voices with the olden rime. 
I view my hope mount from eclipse, 
I hail my heart's apocalypse, 

O God of dreams, 
My Father! 



O God of light! 
When morning's beams my slumbers break 
I feel Thy presence as I wake; 
About me floats an atmosphere 
All crystalline, most pure and clear, 



MY FATHER Ix ^ 

Charged with Thy tender Fatherhood, 
Through which I sense th' Eternal Good 
In pulsings of high purpose beat; 
And all my soul lies at Thy feet, 
O God of light, 
My Father! 



O God of life! 
From sleep and dreams I turn, I spring, 
To greet my being's Sire and King. 
Refreshed and strong I now present 
Myself a humble instrument 
By which Thy covenant may pursue 
Its course of love the whole day through. 
Accept me, let the joy be mine, 
Of service 'neath Thy yoke divine, 

O God of life, 
My Father! 



Il6 MY FATHER 

O God of love! 
What blessed guerdons Thou dost give! 
The grace to grow more sensitive 
To every rhythm; the subtle power 
To see the far-off full-blown flower 
Of every seed; the ecstasy 
Of secret comradeship with Thee; 
The glory, only faith may win, 
Of working out what Heaven works in; 

O God of love, 
My Father! 



WHEAT AND HUSKS. 



117 



I. 

FRUIT OF THE THRESHING. 

THE wheat of the soul! God's grain! 
The seed of centuried sowing, 
The fruit of celestial growing, 
The harvest of infinite pain. 

For each inspiring thought, 

And every conception high, 
Descends from the azure sky, 

By heavenly forces brought. 

All things in the soul that are good 

Are out of God's bountihood. 
119 



120 FRUIT OF THE THRESHING 

The earth is a threshing-floor; 

Upon it the harvest lies, 

A mixture that signifies 
The perfected fruited store, 

When under the flail's laborious art 

The wheat and the husk dispart. 



II. 



THE NEED OF THE HUSK. 

f~\ HUSK, thou art more than husk! 
^^ The wheat had need of thee; 

Thy worth is the destiny 
Thou gavest the day at dusk. 



Without the husk there had been no wheat, 

No bread for man to eat; 

Strong life had withered, sweet love had failed, 

And all the world had wailed. 

Without the husk there had been no flower 

To all thought's processes of power; 

121 



122 THE NEED OF THE HUSK 

No ship sea-riding from shore to shore; 
No word sea-piercing through cable's core; 
No muscle's venture; no spirit's climb; 
No engine's motion; no poet's rime; 
No restful temple; no laborous mart; 
No science, history, or art; 
No children's laughter; no mother's song; 
No manhood's glory that rights the wrong; 
No home, no state, no hope, no faith; 
But only desert and brooding death. 



III. 

THE RIME OF THE REFUSE. 

npHE poet is true to the glume; 
* No cheating of negatives! 

He sings of each thing that lives 
And goes unsung to its doom 
For sake of the world's advance; 

He sees what the refuse is, 

Its mystical dignities, 
And rimes it with high romance. 



Each speck of dust has a fleck of sky 

That's open with bluest blue; 
123 



124 



THE RIME OF THE REFUSE 



And he who raises unveiled eye, 
And gazes fast therethrough, 
Beholds the heavens close-pressed to earth, 
And vanishing things' eternal worth. 



IV. 

LOSS AND GAIN. 

T^HE poet of Nature discerns somehow, 

In psychical moments when 
The very zodiac seems to bow 

And seizes bewildered ken 
With signs and symbols, whose lights rehearse 

What is and shall ever be, 
The changing prose of the universe 

One changeless poesie. 

I sing of the husk: I sing of the wheat; 

The chaff that is trampled beneath men's feet; 

The grain that is garnered to make life sweet. 
125 



126 LOSS AND GAIN 

The things of the subtle soul are twain, 

The fruit for loss and the fruit for gain; 

All things are the husks that are not the grain. 



THE HUSK'S GLORY. 

T SING of the wheat for what it will do; 

I sing of the husk for what it has done; 

And, praising the wheat 'neath the harvest 
sun, 
I give to the husk its glory true; 

And thus is the poet's moment-music one 
With Nature's centuried song forever new. 



The husk is grown for the wheat; 

The evil exists for the good; 

Methinks the archangels understood 

When man met his first defeat. 
127 



128 THE HUSK'S GLORY 

Some prophets have fathomed the mystery- 
Beholding what was and is to be. 
Some souls have entered Edenic gate 
Since Cherubim swords were set 
With holy forbidding flame, 
And wandered over those meads of Fate, 
Faced Love by his side who let 

Man's glory dismount to shame. 



VI. 
THE STARTING OF SORROW. 

f\ VENTURESOME poet, who hast betimes 

Strange vision of things past earth's despair, 
Be cautious, immure thy mystic rimes! 

Thou may'st not all thou see'st declare, — 
How man and Fate met face to face, 
In Eden's most exalted place 

Hard by the tree of destiny; 
How Deity did there permit 
The finite 'gainst the Infinite * 

To set unbending brow and knee; 

And why th' Eternal Power withdrew, 

When Nature's golden age was new, 
129 



130 THE STARTING OF SORROW 

And all the sin and sorrow started 

By which the earth and sky were parted, 

And all man's high desires 

Became but smouldering fires, 

For Love's superior pain, 

And Life's ulterior gain, 

Let God and Time explain! 

And keep thou still, 

Thou seer of good and ill ! 



VII. 

GOD AND THE WRONG. 

T COUNT on God for wherefore and whence,- 
God's omnipresent omnipotence; 
The selfsame Maker of men and stars 

And star-laws and laws of the soul, 
And cycling centuried calendars 

Unchanging toward selfsame goal 
Beknown, since the primal founts are one 
And every shine is sign of the sun. 



I will not rail at the wrong; 

'Tis husk for my golden wheat; 
131 



I32 GOD AND THE WRONG 

I count it such and will beat 
It loose with a threshing song; 

Then gather my grain, and for joy of it 
Will sing of the husk's sure benefit. 



VIII. 

THE LAW OF THE EVIL. 

f~> OD somehow gets the good from the ill 
^^^ And works His unhindered will; 
And evil's law is the law of Love, 
Love dauntless, knowing the Power above 
Must bring each right to its might and throne 
And crown it God's chosen own. 



I speak of law. 'T is a child that speaks 

With knowledge only from inner moods 

And deep impulsions that rise and rush 
133 



134 THE LAW 0F THE EVIL 

Imperious, as one finds who seeks 

And hears the spirit's beatitudes 

Across the unfathomable hush; 
Nature's proclaiming spell 
From deep-set oracle; 
The rhythm of sweetness set to awe, 
Inseparable love and law; 
I give it trust, I will not deny 
The voice of God in earth and sky, 
And my soul's voices as true as His, 
Life's inborn prophecies. 



IX. 
FATE AND PAIN. 

f WILL not rail nor complain 

At fate or at pain; 
I see them husks to my grain. 
I cherish them answers to needs, 
Time-servants for destiny's seeds, — 
The wheat for eternity's mountains and meads. 



I sing of the threshing-floor, 

The floor of the soul; 

Here lies the harvested store; 

For what? Thou knowest the goal 
135 



I36 FATE AND PAIN 

O God! But how hard is the way 
Of beating and bruising, 
Of pain and confusing, 

The only means for the sway 
Of right over wrong, 

Of wheat over husks and the day 
Of garner and song! 



X. 

A SONG OF THE MYSTICALS. 

T SING of the mystical wind 

That symbols high energy; 

The sweep of the unconfined; 

Inbreaking of powers that be 

Paroled from Love's unbeholden surge, 

Across the heavens' close verge. 

I sing of the magical sky 

O'er-rushing its azure meres 

In waftures that purify 

Earth's vaporous atmospheres, 
137 



138 A SONG OF THE MYSTICALS 

Space, time, and nature from gardens above, 
The constant blowing of Love. 



I sing of the musical might, 

The motions of spirit that flow 

Down realer realms of delight 
Than ever the senses know; 

The cadence of severing holiness, 

Love's tenderest storm and stress. 



I sing of the miracle grace 

That fanneth my threshing-floor; 

I yield to its tropic embrace, 

I throw it my bruised store, 

Heaven's purging that perfects my freedomed 
grain, 

Love's victory through pain. 



A SONG OF THE MYSTICALS 1 39 

I sing of the mythical breath; 

The Life of the Holy Ghost, 
The Power that is death unto Death, 

Love unto the uttermost; 
The covenant winnowing Passion of God 
Reclaiming the soul from the clod. 



XL 



BREAK OF THE DAY. 

HPHE hour 'of the soul appears; 

Tis Love's time, break of the day, 
That ushers the golden years 

And metamorphoses clay, 
When pain is no more, — not hence 

In nebulous paradise, 
But here, in earth's circumference 

And under these azure skies; 
For the bruising time below 

Is past, and the wheat is free; 

And only the upper breezes blow 

In winnowing ecstasy. 
140 



XII. 

THROUGH DEATH TO LIFE. 

T^HE soul full-used 

Has once been bruised 

As th' unseen Thresher willed; 
Its fullest worth 
To Heaven or earth 

Is that which has first been killed. 



The brightest hopes 

For skyey slopes 

Are those that have been consumed; 
141 



142 THROUGH DEATH TO LIFE 

The highest joys, 
Time ne'er accloys, 

Are those that have been entombed. 



The greatest lives 
Where service hives 

Are those that have once been slain; 
The sweetest songs 
The world prolongs 

Are those that have come through pain. 



The Living Breath 
Alone through death 

Makes man and Nature real; 
Thus he who dies 
To self shall rise 

And reach his soul's ideal. 



XIII. 

THE TOUCH OF THE SKIES. 

•[ SING of the winnowed soul; 

I sing of the yielded will 

For what God would have it be, 

Life set unto Love's high goal, 

All Heaven let loose to fill 

Existence with ecstasy. 

The flail shall never be felt again; 

The bruising ends, there is no more pain; 

What force ennobles and purifies 

Shall always be the touch of the skies, 
143 



144 THE T0UCH OF THE SKIES 

And never the earth's sharp instruments, 
But ever the heavens' most sweet descents; 
Love's blowing and flowing increasing sweet 
And ever the soul's increasing wheat. 



XIV. 
THE CREED OF LOVE. 

T OVE'S wind makes chaff of the husk 
And blows far away the chaff; 

The dawn descends into dusk, 
And out of my joy I laugh, 

And sing as my wheat falls back to me, 

Made fit for the granary. 



The days of threshing are o'er; 

The winnowing time is past; 

The wheat from the threshing-floor 

Is safely garnered at last; 
145 



I46 THE CREED OF LOVE 

Stored up for seed and a later spring 
And a greater harvesting. 



The wheat of my soul is mine 

Because it is God's. 'T is He 
Who planted the grain divine 

And builded the granary, 
Who gathers destiny's seeds 

With all the heavens in song, 
Makes love the creed of all creeds 

And man's heart sweet and strong. 



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